Criminal Case
by YinWriter
Summary: Marceline Marlow, the newest addition to the Grimsborough Police Force, is determined to make a name for herself in a city overrun by murderers. To do this, she'll need to team up with her partner, Jones, and an array of other characters to unlock the motives of killers and the secrets of the city. But will she live to discover the most horrific secret of all?
1. Prologue

**Author's note: So I utterly LOVE the Facebook game/android app, Criminal Case. So I decided to make a novelization of it. I decided to create a real identity for the character you play as, instead of just keeping it in the first person view like in the game. Anyways, this is a work in progress, so bear with me on it! Hope you enjoy!**

I'd finally, finally done it. After fighting, trying, studying and training for an entire lifetime, I'd finally done it. The undergraduate education, the police academy, all those exams and physical tests had all been worth it. As I sat in my office at the Grimsborough Police Headquarters, I admired my shining badge and beamed from ear to ear. Officer Marceline. I'd made my dream of becoming a police officer come true.

I cast a glance at myself in the small mirror I had in my pocket. I smoothed my long brown hair behind my ear and practiced smiling confidently. First impressions are always extremely important when starting your first job, after all. Living in Grimsbourgh my whole life inspired me to become a police officer, and I'd relentlessly chased my dream until I'd finally caught it. Grimsborough… isn't the best place to grow up.

Gangs, drug dealers, and most prominently, murderers run the entire city. In this city, you've got to be aware and know who runs what. If you get mixed up in something bigger than you can handle, you'll be just another corpse on the street come daybreak. This city always needs more cops. And that's exactly where I came in. I couldn't wait to hit the streets and start _really_ doing my job.

My office door opened suddenly, and I jumped so badly that I nearly dropped my mirror. A man stood in the doorway, casually leaning on the doorknob as he looked at me. He looked to be about my age, with hair the same shade as mine. His blue eyes caught my attention even before his welcoming grin.

"Welcome to the team, Officer!" he announced happily.

I slid my mirror back into my pocket before he noticed. Something told me that a vain police officer wouldn't do well here.

"Thanks," I casually replied.

"I'm Officer Jones," he told me as he stepped inside like he owned the place.

"That's nice."

"What's your name again?" Jones asked me.

"Marceline."

"Interesting name there, Marceline…" He shrugged it off. "Chief King assigned us to be partners, you know."

"Hold it, what?" I cut him off.

"That won't be a problem, will it?" he joked. I plastered my smile back on my face.

"No, I don't suppose so."

"Can I get you a coffee or something?" Jones offered. I was still debating my opinion on my new partner. On the one hand, he seemed to be nice enough. On the other, I didn't much appreciate him barging in…

"I'm good," I replied. "So how long have you been on the force?"

"This is my sixth year. But boy do they fly by!" came the answer.

"I bet they do," I said through my strained grin.

"You must be nervous. I remember _my_ first year. Boy, I was scared. Being around all those new people and all that…" Jones frowned. "And Grimsborough isn't exactly a warm and fluffy place either…" His smile came back, big and toothy. "But you'll be fine, Marceline! I'm sure we'll make a great pair!"

"Yep," I answered vaguely, telling myself that I could've easily done worse for a first partner.

Jones let himself out.

"Keep your ear out for our first case together!" he called back as he left. I sat back in my seat, replaying the conversation in my head.

"I guess I'll be okay with him," I muttered to myself. "… Just as long as he doesn't turn out to be an idiot."


	2. The Death of Rosa Wolf

**Note: I thought for a very long time on whether or not to include the tutorial stage in this fanfic, but I ultimately decided to include it. The next two chapters will progress a little faster, and then after them, we'll really get into Criminal Case as a whole. I promise that if you stick with me, things will improve!**

Jones and I had our first case quicker than we thought. He caught me as I was going down a hallway in Headquarters before I could

react.

"Marceline! Hold it!" He skidded to a stop as soon as he caught up with me. "A young woman was found dead at the entrance of town. We've been assigned the case together!"

"Wait… We're investigating a _murder_ as my first ever case…?" I asked nervously.

"We sure are! The car's outside! I'll meet you in the lot!" With that, Jones left me there, processing all this. Murders are… intimidating. I wasn't sure if I could handle one so soon. I thought my first case would be some sort of petty drug incident. I took a deep breath, reminded myself of my training, and then followed Jones.

Jones and I stepped out of the car at the entrance of the city, right next to the 'Welcome to Grimsborough' sign. Jones immediately let out a whistle.

"At least the killer left the body in plain view," he commented. I only nodded in response. Leaning against the sign was the body of a young woman, probably in her early twenties, with long golden blonde hair. She was wearing a red dress, which was now soaked with her own blood. Her throat had been slashed, right across the carotid artery.

"I'll call an ambulance to load the body away. You look around, alright?" Jones stepped aside and pulled out his cell phone. I steeled my insides and started inspecting the crime scene. Through the grass, I spotted it immediately. It was a knife, smooth and covered in sticky crimson blood.

"Hey Jones!" I called. "I found the murder weapon!"

"Great!" he answered as he jogged over. "Well, that was easy…

"The victim's name was Rosa Wolf. Her body's going to be sent to the lab for an autopsy."

"Isn't that a little pointless with this case…?" I asked as we walked back to the car.

"Simple procedures, Marceline," Jones shrugged. "Well, you did great on your first investigation regardless!"

"Thanks, Jones," I rolled my eyes. That had been so easy that it was almost boring.

Once we got back to HQ, Jones led me to the lab on the second floor. Rosa Wolf's body was already there, hidden under a grey tarp. A man with dark skin, glasses, and a white lab coat came over to us. He wore a blue hairnet to keep his mid-length black hair from interfering with his work, and a pair of red glasses rested on his face.

Of course, Jones greeted him immediately.

"Nathan! How's it hangin'?"

"Another day, another autopsy," the person who I assumed to be Nathan answered calmly. He looked over at me and offered me a gentle smile. "You must be Marceline Marlow."

I nodded.

"Nice to meet you." I shook hands with Nathan.

"Now, about the body…" Nathan looked over at the tarp. "I studied the wound on the victim's neck and I can tell you for sure that your killer is right-handed."

"That doesn't sound too helpful…" Jones muttered.

"I do my job, you do yours." The coroner looked at me one last time. "Well, good luck on your first case, Officer." Then, he left to get back to whatever work he was up to.

Later that day, Jones and I found ourselves in an office on the top floor of HQ. My eyes were drawn to the humongous desk in the center of the room before a slightly gruff, commanding voice caught my attention. The voice belonged to a man with white hair, a moustache, and electric blue eyes.

"Officer Marlow, I'm Samuel King, the Chief Police Officer!" he introduced himself. My first impression of Chief King was that he was loud, large and in charge. I didn't want to get in his way, so I just nodded.

"Good to see you today, Chief!" Jones grinned. Chief King ignored him and turned to me.

"According to a witness, Rosa Wolf's killer wears a blue cap. Go back to the town entrance and find the evidence we're missing!" Chief King shouted at me with enough volume to silence a football stadium. Jones and I took off.

"Is he always like that?" I breathed as Jones drove us back to the city entrance.

"Pretty much, yep," came the casual reply. "But he knows his stuff! He's not Chief for nothing!" Jones added.

"Uh-huh…" I muttered. We stopped outside of a large, old home with loose brown tiles and a deer head mounted on the front of it.

"We'll check here," Jones suggested. "Rosa's body was found only a little bit down the road."

So we stepped out and split up as we looked around. There wasn't much to see, and Jones was about to head back to the car when I finally laid eyes on something interesting. It was a bundled, dirty piece of blue fabric, crumpled and hidden from view. Jones wandered over and inspected it.

"Good eye. This looks interesting… This fabric is covered in blood. We should piece it back together and see what it looks like! We'll take it back with us." And we did.

Jones said he had some paperwork to finish up, so I was left alone with the fabric. It really wasn't hard to piece back together. My hands seemed to move on their own. It was like a simple jigsaw puzzle. Once I finished, I looked down at the torn-up blue football jersey, and something caught my eye. It was a white number 9 in the very front. Hmm… It looked interesting… Jones breezed inside without knocking. Again.

"How's it going, Officer? Find anything?"

I showed him.

"Our killer's a football player who wears a number 9," I reported.

"Impressive!" Jones grinned. "That should make things easier! We'll have the thug behind bars in no time!"

"So we've got two suspects in this case," Jones prattled on as we headed towards the lineup room.

"I've got it, Jones! I went to a police academy too!" I sighed. He laughed.

"Gotta love a new officer with a sense of humor!" he chuckled. I let that slide, and we arrived. Behind the glass were two men, both of them wearing blue caps. The one on the left had shoulder-length greasy black hair, a leather jacket and a tattoo of a snake on his neck. He scowled at us as soon as we entered.

The other man was younger, possibly in his mid-twenties. His brown hair was better kept than the other's. However, a number 9 on his blue jersey blew away any and all positive thoughts I had about this man.

"The left one's name is Ash Bison. The right one's Matt Barry," Jones informed. "They're both right-handed. We checked. So, Marceline, who killed Rosa Wolf?"

Ash Bison glared at me, and Matt Barry gave a charming smile. I wasn't fooled.

"Matt did it. Matt killed her," I stated confidently. My new partner grinned.

"I thought you wouldn't be distracted by that sicko's charm!" he chuckled. "I'll handle Matt, you head back to your office and just relax, alright?"

"What about the report?" I inquired. "Won't the chief need–"

"I'll handle that, too! This is just a sort of practice case for you, Marceline. We'll ease you into this job. No worries!"

"But…" I felt myself frowning. I wanted to learn how to do my job. I didn't want to be shrugged off and treated like a child.

Jones saw my face and laughed quietly.

"We're not trying to insult you! Tell you what: for our next case, I'll tell Chief to give you equal responsibility. Is that what you want?" he asked.

I nodded. "Thank you." I curtly left. So that's the story of my first case with the Grimsborough Police Force. … It was far too boring. I should've known that it wouldn't stay that way.


	3. Corpse in a Garden: Chapter 1

**Author's note: I really do hate writing about tutorial stages. Hopefully this came out okay!**

Judging by the way I spoke about Rosa Wolf, some of you might assume that I don't care about the victims whose murders I solve. That's entirely untrue. I _do_ care. There's just so much that goes on in a murder investigation… You don't have time to get all touchy-feely. When a killer is wandering the streets, you learn to lock up your heart and throw away the key until the culprit is caught. I've attended many funerals for the victims I've brought justice to. However, some victims were… nicer… in life than others. In fact, some were downright despicable and honestly had it coming. I learned this on my second-ever investigation.

I smoothed out my uniform shirt as I made my way up to Chief King's office. I turned a corner and nearly smashed into Jones as I did so.

"Oop! Someone's a little eager!" he joked. I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off. "No time to chit-chat, Officer. Best not to keep Chief waiting." So he ushered me into a nearby elevator and we found ourselves in King's office in minutes.

Jones and I both saluted as we entered. Chief King looked deep in thought, and got straight to the point.

"Jones, Marceline, a man called Dave Simmons claims he saw body parts in a junkyard garden," he reported. His eyebrows knitted together to form a 'V' shape. "Go investigate and solve this case as fast as you can!" he shouted. I winced at the volume. Jones took me by the shoulders and led me out. As soon as we were out of King's sight, I wriggled away. That got a bit too close for my liking…

So my new partner and I sat in the police cruiser, with Jones behind the wheel. We sped down the streets of Grimsborough's Industrial Area. See, Grimsborough is divided into several little 'zones' There's the university campus, the airport area and a historical center, among others. As rookie officers, Jones and I were, for a lack of words, confined to just the Industrial Area at first.

"The garden should be around here somewhere…" Jones muttered as he drove around. "What does the GPS say?"

I looked."It's dead, Jones."

"Damn thing!" he shouted as he pounded it. I allowed myself to smile a little, but I quickly wiped the grin off my face as I glanced down the street.

"Jones! Three homes down, to the left," I instructed. He looked up and blushed a little.

"Oh. Whoops." He stopped hitting the GPS.

The car skidded to a halt in front of the garden, and Jones and I hopped out. I was able to spot the garden from such a distance simply because of the state of disrepair it was in. There was so much trash everywhere… Half-eaten rotting foods, random broken tools, there was even a washing machine just sitting there. The house on the garden premises didn't look much better. The windows were boarded up and the tiles on the roof were falling off. It had obviously been abandoned for quite some time.

"This place feels… neglected," Jones muttered as we poked around the yard.

"No kidding," I replied as I studied a few moldy wooden planks. I took a breath to say something else, but I quickly stopped myself. Poking out from between the boards was a hand. A severed, human hand. Just lying there. I made a little 'hurk' sound and Jones was by my side in moments. He narrowed his eyes.

"Isn't that pretty…" he grimaced. I took out a sample bag and slid the hand inside. It left a smeared bloody trail.

Jones tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked up to see a short man hurrying towards us. He wore a grey business suit and a blue tie, and he had a bandage across his cheek. He looked extremely worried.

"My name is Dave Simmons," he introduced, huffing and puffing. "I called the police as soon as I saw the hand in the garden."

"You did well!" Jones told the man. "Stay around… Officer Marlow and I will have a look inside, see if we can find the rest of the body," he added.

"Is there anything I can do?" Simmons pressed anxiously.

"Keep out of our way," I told him as I picked up the bag with the hand and started heading towards the abandoned home. Jones followed in suite.

"It might not be safe in there," he muttered, perhaps to himself or perhaps to me.

Jones busted down the front door with one good kick, and we entered with our guns drawn. I immediately caught a whiff of something. It's hard to describe exactly what I smelled, but it was absolutely vile. Jones made a hacking noise, acknowledging that he was smelling it too.

"That, Marceline," he coughed, "is the smell of death. There's a corpse in this house somewhere…"

Our noses eventually led the both of us to a bathroom that was in a state of disrepair similar to the front yard. The area around the dirty bathtub was covered in bloody handprints. There, lying in the bathtub, was the corpse. It was the body of a man, about in his late forties. His face was twisted in agony, and his glasses were crooked. His clothes lay next to the tub, ruffled and messy.

"You don't have to look at the body if you don't want to," Jones told me.

"It's just a naked dead man," I replied coolly. "I'll be fine."

I took a step forward to examine the body, and my foot went flying out from under me. Jones grabbed my shoulders before I fell.

"Easy there!" He pulled me back to my feet, and I looked down at what I'd stepped on. It was a cylindrical container marked with a 'flammable' sign. We both stared down at it.

"Suspicious…" I muttered.

"We better take that back to the lab," Jones noted, stepping forward to examine it.

"It's about as suspicious as the bloody saw you're standing on, Jones," I said sarcastically without looking up. He gave a little yelp and stumbled backwards, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Could've warned me, there!" He exhaled sharply. "Well, this looks like our murder weapon."

He looked over at the body.

"That's obviously the second part of our victim. We'll send his body to Nathan for autopsy." Jones carefully walked over to the man's clothes and reached into a pant pocket. "According to his ID, his name was Ned Dillard, and he was a mortgage broker."

"Ugh," I muttered. "Swindlers, all of them."

"Amen," Jones agreed. "Pack up his clothes and that bottle you stepped on. We'll need to examine them as soon as we get back." He stared down at the bloody saw once more. "We've made progress, at least! Better send the murder weapon back, too." While he spoke, I peered at Ned Dillard's body once more.

"Looks like the killer sawed off his hand and left him to bleed out," I cringed. "Sick bastard, whoever did this."

We brought our findings back to HQ, and Nathan immediately set to work on the autopsy. To pass the time as we waited for the results, my partner and I got to work with the other objects we'd recovered.

"So! Do we start with the suspicious bottle or the victim's clothes?" Jones asked as we laid both pieces of evidence on a steel table.

"Let's check the bar code on the bottle first," I answered, picking up the bottle and studying the slightly faded label.

Jones nodded and booted up a small computer off to the left.

"You're the boss! Anyway, the sale of such chemicals is under strict tracking laws. What's the bar code?" Within seconds, we had the bar code processed in the computer, and Jones started checking through files.

"What's all this?" I inquired.

"Now that we've got the code, we'll determine where the bottle was purchased," he explained."Bingo! I've got it! The bottle's from a mini-market nearby! And I know the owner of that place, his name is Joe Stern!"

"So I'm assuming we'll need to speak to him."

"Of course! I mean, after we've looked through Ned Dillard's clothes." We spread the articles of clothing out on the table, and we shifted through them. They still held a bit of warmth in them, which was slightly disgusting.

Something shiny caught my eye, and I carefully uncovered something buried in a green shirt.

"What's that?" Jones wondered as he peered over my shoulder.

"Looks like a gold tooth," I noted, peering at the thing. "So… What's the protocol with this?"

"We'll send it to the lab and let our specialist analyze it," Jones clarified as he arranged the clothes back into a pile.

"You mean Nathan will handle it?" I asked.

"Nope! I think you'll like our forensic analyst, she's always friendly to new recruits! Anyway, do we go talk to Joe Stern or go to the lab?"

"I'd say we should get an explanation from this Joe character," I decided.

"Great! I'll run this tooth to the lab, meet me at the cruiser!"

We'd parked outside of Stern's mini-market, and Jones muttered to me as we approached the entrance.

"Listen, Joe's not really a nice guy, so try not to get offended by him, alright?"

"I'm a big girl, Jones. I doubt he'll bother me," I hissed back. We entered the shop, and it was so vacant that we could've bowled in there. The only person in there was a man in a blue collared shirt standing behind the counter. His brown hair was untidy, and he had a bandage plastered over his neck. He wore a tag that identified him as the manager of the store.

"I didn't know the Force recruited such fragile-looking dolls," Joe spoke up, giving me a patronizing grin.

"Cut the crap, Stern," I frowned. Jones placed the bottle down on the counter.

"Look familiar, Joe?"

"Yes, this bottle comes from my shop, so what?" Stern looked bored, like he'd rather be doing anything other than chat with us.

"We need to know who bought this. They've committed a murder!" my partner told him flatly.

"Look, buddy, you don't seriously think I keep track of my customers, do you?" Joe sneered. "Dozens of people come here every day!"

"Is that so?" Jones' eyebrows knitted together. "Well then, we'll have a look at your shop. Just in case there are other things you don't keep track of!"

"Be my guest!" Stern spat. "I don't have anything to hide!"

"We'll see," I replied as Jones and I spread up to search the place. The mini-market was a small place, with items spread along the shelves untidily. I was scanning the shelves when my foot hit something lying on the ground, and I looked down to see a black garbage bag lying right in the open.

"This could be worth something," I noted aloud. Jones stepped out from behind a rack of cereal boxes and examined the bag.

"You'll soon find that suspicious things always end up in the trash, Marceline." And with that, he pulled the thing right open. A horrific odor hit my nose.

"For God's sake!" I shouted as I pulled my shirt over my face. My partner fanned the air and gave a wry smile.

"Well, go on! How else are you going to learn?"

I stared at him.

"You're not serious."

"Be my guest!" he insisted. In that moment, I bit my lip, threw away my dignity, and reached into the trash bag. I rummaged around and swore under my breath for a solid minute before I finally found something worthwhile. I withdrew a receipt from the garbage triumphantly.

"There you go! See, it wasn't so bad!" Jones joked.

"Bite me."

"Very funny, Marceline." He studied the receipt. "Wow! This is a goldmine! Look, it records the purchase of a bottle of flammable liquid…" He paused as his eyes widened. "… The purchase of a saw, just like the one we found in the bathroom… And even better: the same receipt also shows that bandages have been purchased by the same person!"

I studied Jones for a moment.

"Well, the killer obviously didn't get those for Ned…" I shuddered.

"Exactly! This means we're looking for someone wearing a bandage!" Jones exclaimed. We were both interrupted by the sound of Joe Stern howling with laughter from behind his counter.

"So this is how the Force works! Priceless!" he guffawed, pausing to wipe tears from his eyes.

I opened my mouth to let him have it, but my partner stopped me by speaking first.

"This isn't over, Joe! Don't leave the vicinity; we might be back later!"

"Oh good!" Stern grinned. "I can't wait for the next comedy show!" After I pocketed the receipt, Jones and I left the market and headed for our car.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you about Joe," Jones said as we stepped inside.

"All I care about now is washing my hands as soon as we get back to HQ."

After thoroughly disinfecting my hands, Jones and I stopped by Nathan's part of the lab, and he was just finishing up the last of his work with our victim when we arrived.

"Nice to see you two again!" the coroner grinned, cleaning his bloody gloves on a paper towel. I shuddered. "I'll get straight to business: the hand you found in the garden matches the body you found in the bathtub."

"If it didn't match, I'd be scared," I murmured.

Jones snorted at that.

"Apart from the match, I've only got one certainty, I'm afraid. Only a man of very strong build could've gotten rid of a body by cutting it with a saw," Nathan reported.

"I'm dying to ask you how a woman would've disposed of the body, but we've got no time. Our killer is a man, which is all that matters! Thanks, Nate!" Jones grinned.

"Welcome to our forensic lab!" my partner beamed as he opened a heavy door and led me inside a room I'd never seen before. The scent of chemicals hit my nose immediately, and as I got a look around, I noticed several shelves lining the walls of the immaculate place. On the shelves rested an array of chemicals and powders that I couldn't hope to identify. Several complex-looking machines also lined the room, and a woman sat at a white desk in the center of the room as she examined the golden tooth I'd found.

The woman wore a pink shirt underneath her white lab coat, and had her ginger hair tied back in a sensible ponytail. She also wore a necklace that held only a single silver ring. She looked up as we entered, and her dazzling green eyes glowed as she smiled.

"Jones! It's about time you introduced me to our newest recruit!" she chided playfully as she stood up and came over to us.

"We've been sort of busy, what with all the murders going on…" Jones chuckled nervously. The woman turned to me.

"Nice to meet you, Officer! I'm Grace Delaney. I'm the head of this lab, and I take care of all the physical analyses," she explained.

"Duly noted." I held out a hand. "Marceline Marlow, rookie officer." We shook.

"So, Grace! What do you have for us?" Jones interrupted.

"Well, as it turns out, that tooth you sent me matches the bites marks on the bottle you found in the same place!" Grace informed us. "The killer must have tried to open the cap with their teeth, and lost this tooth in the process!"

"Either that's a really strong cap, or our killer's got lousy teeth!" Jones joked. "In any case, we're looking for someone with a missing tooth!"

A sudden memory hit me.

"Jones. Dave Simmons was missing one when we met him this morning." I remembered the way his mouth whistled when he spoke.

"Well! Impressive… The witness is a suspect now! Good catch!" As Jones spoke, I pulled a notepad out of my pocket and scribbled on it, muttering as I did.

"Male killer… Wearing a bandage… Missing a tooth…"

"Sounds like things are getting interesting!" Grace stepped back a bit and took a seat as her desk. "I sure won't distract you. Go and nail 'em, Officers!" She glanced at me once more. "I'm looking forward to our next meeting, Marceline. It's good to have another woman on the Force for once!"

"Tell me about it," I laughed.

Tiny Dave Simmons sat in our interrogation room, shivering in his seat as Jones and I stared him down. I made extra note of the bandage on his cheek.

"I lost my tooth when I was young, Officers. I have nothing else to say about this case, except that I was there to sell the house," he squeaked. I watched without a word as Jones took over the talking.

"Since you were here to sell the house, I trust you know who it belongs to?"

"Of course!" Simmons nodded like a bobble head."This property belongs to Mr. Marconi and has been derelict for years now. He'd be much better off without it," the man reported. Jones' reaction was instantaneous.

"Did you say Marconi?" he gasped, his eyes very wide.

"Am I missing something here?" I looked up from my notes.

"I think we have to report this to Chief King." Jones stood and walked out abruptly. Simmons and I stared at each other.

"… Erm…" I murmured. Jones' head popped back around the corner.

"Oh. Right. I guess you can leave now, Mr. Simmons…" He shot up from his seat and bolted. As soon as Simmons left, I followed Jones to Chief King's office.

"… You mean to tell me that Tony Marconi is somehow involved in this investigation?!" Chief King shouted at us.

"He sure is!" Jones nodded. "Wow, imagine this, Marceline! We're dealing with Marconi already!"

"… Right," I replied awkwardly. I'd never heard the name before in my life. Chief King must have picked up on this, because he suddenly turned to face me with a steely look.

"Listen to me, Officer Marlow: Tony Marconi is a gangster involved in all sorts of shady business. We haven't been able to pin anything on him so far… This case might be our chance to know more about him! I want you and Jones to head straight to Marconi's club, The Blue Flamingo. Report everything you learn!"

"Will do, sir," I agreed. So Jones and I found ourselves heading for a strip club.

I averted my eyes as soon as we walked into the Blue Flamingo. The entire club was filled with paying customers and girls 'entertaining' them from a stage. Pop music blared from speakers and dazzling lights reflected off of hanging disco balls. Jones led me to a counter near the back, and that's when I first saw him. Tony Marconi was a man of large, muscular build with a clean-shaven face and a grey suit with a fancy collared white shirt. Tucked into his shirt was a gold chain that rested around his neck. The chain also made me notice the bandage on his neck.

When he looked up at us, it was nearly impossible for me to tell his dark irises from his pupils. When he smiled, my heart sank. He had all his teeth intact.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Force," Marconi smirked. "Have you come to make a reservation?" he asked, his arrogant tone dripping with sarcasm. I recognized immediately that this was a man who truly thought that he could get away with anything.

"No, as a matter of fact," Jones frowned. "We're here to ask you some questions, Tony. And you'd better answer them."

"Oh, by all means…" Marconi absently replied as he studied my face. I tried to keep a neutral expression. "I haven't seen you around before."

"Marlow. Marceline Marlow." I never broke eye contact with this man. "Enough with the games. Have you ever heard of a man called Ned Dillard?"

Tony Marconi pretended to think.

"I don't think so. Is that all? I'm a very busy man, you know."

"I'd watch my tone if I were you," Jones stepped in. "It's his corpse we found in a house that belongs to you."

"You know what?" Marconi raised an eyebrow. "I think you should just have a little chat with my lawyer about it.I really have no time for such trivial matters," he told us with a tone like he was ending the conversation for us.

"Murder is never a trivial manner, Marconi," I replied sternly. "We'll be keeping a close eye on you."

"You do that." The man looked up at me like I was nothing more than a young child trying to be the toughest kid on the playground and failing miserably. I turned and left without a word, and Jones followed me. Something told me that I would see a lot more of Tony Marconi.


	4. Corpse in a Garden: Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Holy mother, I completely forgot about this thing! Does anyone still remember it? Hello?**

 **Well, if you do, I can't say how sorry I am about this. I'm still in high school, and things have been insane. I was gonna post this chapter last weekend... but I was pretty sick. I'm better now, so here you go!**

 **I really, really hope to update more frequently, especially since the next case is one of my favourites!**

 **Thanks for sticking by me!**

"So, Officers!" Chief King stood from his desk as Jones and I returned from our trip to the Blue Flamingo. "How is the Ned Dillard case going? Have you found something to incriminate Marconi?"

"Erm…" I shifted nervously. I wasn't quite ready for King to rip my head off yet.

"Sorry, Chief. We've got next to nothing against him," Jones answered for me.

"Unless we can fine him for having no taste when it comes to decorating a strip club," I muttered too quietly for Chief King to hear. Jones heard me and laughed, but he covered it with a cough.

"Oh." King frowned and knitted his brows. "That IS unfortunate. We've been after him for ages." He paced a few steps around his desk. "Oh well, you know what to do!"

Being the rookie, I looked up at Jones, hoping for him to clarify what King was talking about. Jones looked as lost as I was. King stared us down impatiently.

"… Um… Yes…?" my partner finally squeaked. King lost it.

"For God's sake!" he roared, slamming a fist down on his desk. "Do the only thing you CAN do! Go back to the crime scene and find something to push this case forward!"

"Son of a bitch, that man is terrifying," I shivered as I stepped out of the cruiser, my feet squishing on the muddy soil of the junkyard garden.

"You'll get used to it," Jones reassured, his eyes scanning the yard for any pieces of evidence.

"I was expecting you to bail me out!" I fumed. "You're supposed to know what to do! You're my superior!"

"Calm down, calm down! I just got cold feet, that's all!"

"Are you sure?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Positive!" Jones nodded. "Anyway, do you see anything worthwhile?" That got my head back into the game. I soon found myself circling a decaying maple tree, and I stopped just before a pile of dirty leaves. I knelt down and spread the leaves apart, and in the very middle of the pile, there lay a small, blue card. I picked the card up, and I skimmed the front of it. It was a business card belonging to our victim, Ned Dillard. Nothing special. I flipped it over, and on the back was some writing in black marker.

"Call Maria…" I read aloud. Jones peered over my shoulder.

"Think that's a phone number on the bottom?" he asked. Sure enough, underneath the message was what appeared to be somebody's number, but the ink had been badly smeared.

"Dammit. The rain must've ruined it," I muttered crossly.

"Well, why not decipher it?" Jones inquired matter-of-factly. I looked up at him.

"How?"

"By looking at it very closely, of course!"

"If you don't stop talking like a smart-ass, I'm gonna whoop you." He chuckled at that.

"Alright, alright. Take the card back to HQ and we'll make something of it there."

Then we made our way back into the disused house, which still smelled absolutely revolting.

"The sooner we get out of here," Jones coughed, "the better!" We steeled our insides and poked around inside the bathroom where we'd found the body. I was about to say that I didn't see anything special, but then my eyes darted over to a tie clip lying next to the bloody bathtub.

"How the heck," I said, "did this immaculate tie clip end up in such a disgusting bathroom?"

"You don't believe in magical fairies, do you?" There was my partner, being smart again.

"No. Of course not."

"Then I'd say it's worth looking into!"

I slipped the tie clip into a clear bag. I made sure to wear a thin plastic glove the whole time.

"We've got that business card and this clip. Is that enough to go on?" I wondered.

"Sometimes the smallest pieces of evidence end up solving the biggest cases, Marceline. Besides, do you really want to spend any more time in this awful house?" "… Good point."

Trying to decipher the number on the business card was ridiculous. Warming it barely cleared the ink up. Eventually, I decided to try using a magnifying glass to see if that would help. It took a lot of fancy guesswork, but in the end, I finally made out a legible number.

"Have you got it yet?" Jones asked as he poked his head in the room. In response, I shoved a yellow sticky note into his the note, I had written the number: 870-877-2245.

"I went through a little slice of hell to get that number, Jones. If you lose it or damage it, they'll never solve your murder."

"Alright, alright!" I wanted to wipe that smile off his face. Badly. "Let's give this number to Alex, our tech guy. He'll probably find its owner in our database."

"'Probably'…?" I repeated. Jones shrugged.

"Dead ends happen. Say, where's that tie clip?" In response, I nodded towards a metal table at the back of the room. I'd put the clip there for safekeeping while I worked on the business card.

"Nobody has touched it yet," I said.

"Great! You know what time it is?"

I glanced at my watch.

"Four o'clock?"

"Nope! It's fingerprint time!" Jones answered.

"Are you always this insufferably upbeat?"

"I'm just enjoying training you! Lighten up, Marceline!"

"I won't lighten up until we catch the son of a bitch who killed Dillard."

"Then let's get a fingerprint off that clip!" Very, very carefully, Jones showed me how to lift a print from the tie clip. My hands never shook. I was completely in my element. The end result was an absolutely perfect print. I finally allowed myself to breathe again.

"You're a natural at lifting prints," Jones commented, studying the print. "That clip never stood a chance."

"Thanks."

"What do you say we get this to Grace, see what she can come up with?"

"Sure thing. Grace seems nice enough."

"Yeah…" Jones tugged at his collar nervously. "But she gets pretty scary when she's mad…"

"I take it you've had experience with an angry Grace Delaney?" I couldn't help but smirk. Jones chuckled nervously.

"Thankfully, Alex is a lot calmer. Why don't we go see him?"

"That sounds alright." This Alex person was someone I'd never met before, and I was looking forward to knowing him. Hopefully he was less annoying than my partner.

As soon as I laid eyes on Alex Turner, I thought back to every single geek I'd ever known in high school. His skin was pasty and pale, like he never saw sunlight. His brown hair went past his ears, and it looked a bit greasy. He wore a grey jacket, and a large pair of headphones rested around his neck. When Jones and I walked into his lab, he quickly closed what looked suspiciously like a computer game.

"Hey! You're Marceline, right?" He sounded happy enough, considering we'd just interrupted his gaming time. "I'm Alex, but you can call me the Digital God if you want to."

"I don't think so," I smiled, shaking his hand. It was slightly sweaty.

"Alex is in charge of all the technical stuff here. Yes, he IS good, but maybe not THAT good." Jones looked like he was used to Alex's obvious geekiness.

"Spoilsport," Alex pouted. "Anyway, the owner of the phone number you found is called Maria Sanchez. She's a housemaid who lives in the area."

"I suppose we'll have to have a chat with this Maria, then." I scribbled her name and address into my notepad.

"Hey, Marceline?"

"Yes, Alex?" When I looked up at Alex again, he had this giddiness on his face that he couldn't hide.

"What kind of gamer are you? RPG? Horror? Online multiplayer?"

"I don't usually have time for games."

"Oh." Alex deflated, but only for a second. "One day, you shall learn from the Digital God!" he proclaimed in a cheesy deep voice. "He shall teach you, young mortal!"

Jones and I couldn't keep ourselves from snickering, and neither could Alex. As much as a nerd as he was, I could tell that he was a good guy.

"Alright, Your Pixelated Lordship, we're off to interrogate Maria Sanchez." Jones led the way out.

"Ned Dillard's dead? Ha! So there is some justice in the world, after all!" Maria Sanchez, a middle-aged Mexican woman cackled. Jones and I stood on her front doorstep, exchanging glances. That hadn't been the reaction we'd expected.

"Is that so?" Jones arched an eyebrow. It was amazing how he could become so serious so quickly. I almost admired that. "Why did the victim have your phone number, Ms. Sanchez?"

"Because I'm his maid. Or rather, I was. The bastard fired me two days ago!" Maria spat. I reminded myself that even though a man murdered Ned, Maria could've still played a part.

"And now Ned's in bits and pieces, you're the picture of health, and your termination gives you a very good motive for murder," I said flatly. Maria's eyes bored into mine.

"Think what you will." She paused to put her black hair up in a bun. "But if I were you, I'd go have a little chat with Dennis Brown. He's a bodyguard, and he'd just offered his services to Mr. Dillard."

"You wouldn't happen to know what he looks like, do you, Ms. Sanchez?" asked Jones.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Maria reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a business card.

"This is his. He gave me one before leaving. Not that I asked for it."

"Thank you." I studied the card closely. Luckily, Dennis had added his photograph to his card.

"Do you know when Ned's funeral is?" Maria suddenly asked. I shook my head.

"No, not yet. Why?"

"Let me know." Her mouth stretched into a menacing smile. "I want to be the first to spit on his grave."

"You think Maria had a hand to play in this mess?" I wondered aloud. Jones and I were cruising back to HQ.

"Maybe," Jones shrugged, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Don't forget Joe Stern or Dave Simmons."

"Or Tony Marconi."

"True, very true."

We passed by the Blue Flamingo, Marconi's horrible club. Then, I swore under my breath.

"Stop the damn car!" I shouted.

"What?! Why?!" Jones glanced out the window and saw what I saw. "Son of a bitch!" He pulled over as fast as he could. Before he'd even parked, I bolted out of the car. A man who looked exactly like Dennis Brown had just walked out of the club and onto the sidewalk.

The instant Dennis saw me approaching him, he froze in his tracks and reflexively put up his fists. I flashed my badge.

"Grimsborough PD, Mr. Brown. I just want a word with you."

"Sorry, sorry." He put down his fists. Dennis had olive skin and a large bandage plastered across his face, which I mentally noted. "God knows I'd never hear the end of it if I ever punched a lady cop." He scratched the back of his neck. "Heh. That's a combo of the two people never to punch. Ladies and cops."

Jones finally jogged up beside me. He seemed a bit out of breath.

"Mr. Dennis Brown, Maria Sanchez told us that you offered your bodyguard services to Ned Dillard shortly before his death. Is that true?"

"Sure." When Dennis shrugged, his muscles made his suit ripple. "Ned Dillard was a crook. He sold a lot of shit to a lot of people. The guy obviously needed protection!" When he grinned, I noticed something.

"You're missing a tooth. Did you lose it on the job?"

"Um, yeah. It's a rough job, sometimes you get on the wrong end of a fight." His story seemed plausible enough. Still, the missing tooth combined with the bandage made me reasonably suspicious. "Look, about Ned… I didn't kill him," Dennis continued. "But I've got a list of people who might've: all the people who got their houses taken because of him!"

"Oh really?" That piqued my interest. "Ned appears to have made a name for himself."

"You don't know the half of it," Dennis concurred.

"You wouldn't happen to still have that list, would you?" inquired Jones.

"I didn't think I'd need that list no more, since the guy's dead, so I tore it up. You can probably still put it back together, though."

"You're kidding, right?" I muttered.

But he wasn't. I found myself with a handful of paper scraps.

"Stay in the area, Dennis," Jones warned. "We're not done yet."

"Sure thing, Officers."

"Wait," I called as Dennis started to leave. He stopped in his tracks. "Why were you in the Blue Flamingo?"

"I'm a grown man," said Dennis. "I can do what I want."

"Got any tape?" I asked Jones when we got back to the cruiser.

"No, sorry. Why don't we lay them out on the dashboard?" Luckily, with Jones and I working together, we were able to put the paper back together in a reasonable amount of time. A name jumped off the page.

"Holy shit," I muttered. "Joe Stern lost his house thanks to our victim." Jones immediately turned the car on.

"That's just about the best motive I can think of off the top of my head," he said as he stepped on the gas. "Guy takes your home, so you murder him in a bathtub. It makes sense."

"We're going to the mini-market, right?"

"We sure are." Jones gave me a mischievous smile. "I think some thorough shelf-searching is in order."

"Back so soon?" Joe's voice hit my ears as soon as we stepped into his shop. My partner's happy-go-lucky attitude had melted away, thank God. It was nice to see him acting like an actual police officer.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us that your property got seized because of Ned Dillard, Joe?!"

"So what?!" Joe didn't look like he wanted to play games anymore. "I'm not the only one that bastard got to!"

"Maybe," spat Jones, "but it still makes you a suspect! Step aside, we need another look through your shop!"

"Fine!" shouted Joe Stern. "I've got nothing to hide! I didn't kill that son of a bitch, but I wish I knew who did! I'd give them 90% off everything in my store!" Boys will be boys, I reminded myself. Always shouting, always in each other's faces. While they were busy, I found something of interest.

"Hey Jones," I said before he could say anything else. He shut his mouth and gave Joe the evil eye before joining me.

"Find something?"

"I'd like to think so." He followed my gaze up to the ceiling, and immediately grinned.

"Bingo!" Jones turned back to our suspect. "Mr. Stern, we'll be taking your surveillance camera for analysis."

"First the trash, now the camera. You really don't have anything better to do?"

"Shut up, Joe." I hissed. "We'd better call Alex, Jones. This is his field of expertise, not ours."

Alex took the camera back to HQ, and we went back with him. Jones and I decided to head for Grace's lab and see if she'd finished analyzing the fingerprint we'd brought her. I'd nearly forgotten about it.

"I was just about to go find you two," Grace called over her shoulder as we walked in.

"Perfect!" Jones seemed to be back to his usual self again. "What have you got for us?"

"The fingerprint from that tie clip you found on the crime scene didn't match any in our files, but it was a perfect match with the prints present on the murder weapon." Grace had that horrible saw lying on a table next to her. It was covered in dried blood, and staring at it made me shiver.

"So the tie clip belongs to our killer," I muttered. Something occurred to me. "So does that mean our killer wears a tie?"

"It sure does!" Grace beamed. I racked my brain.

"Joe doesn't wear one," I noted aloud.

"Damn," Jones swore. "So Maria Sanchez is innocent, and so is Joe Stern. Who does that leave again?"

"Dave Simmons, the witness. He could've done it. Dennis Brown could've done it, too."

"What about Tony Marconi?" Jones's face lit up as the possibility. "He was wearing a tie!"

"But he had all his teeth," I pointed out.

"Damn it!"

"Jones! Enough with the profanity in my lab!" Grace said sharply. I'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Sorry Grace," Jones meekly replied. "Okay, so it's come down to Dave Simmons and Dennis Brown. We'll just need to wait for Alex with the footage from that camera. Maybe he'll give us the last piece of evidence we need."

One thing I'll say about Alex is that he sure followed through and he sure did it quick. It barely took him an hour to get us what we needed.

"So I had a look at your surveillance camera's recording, basing my search on the time marked down on the killer's receipt," he started as soon as we asked. "He never turned towards the camera, I'm afraid." I felt the muscles in my neck become tense.

"You've got to be kidding me." We were so close to finishing this. So close, but so far. Alex smirked at me.

"Are you doubting the Digital God, Marceline? I'm not finished yet! I compared the killer's height to the shelf he was standing next to, and…" He paused. I felt like punching him. Jones snickered next to me. I felt like punching him, too.

"…And?!"

"Lady and gentleman, your killer is precisely six feet tall!" Alex finally finished. Everything fit. At last, I finally knew who the murderer was. And there was no way it was tiny Dave Simmons.

"Thanks, Alex!" Jones shouted over his shoulder as we ran out of the lab.

When Jones and I passed the Blue Flamingo, Dennis was standing across the street, apparently looking for more people to offer his services to. When he saw us coming towards him, the color drained from his face. Luckily for us, he wasn't dumb enough to try running.

"Get your hands behind your back!" I shouted, drawing my gun. Dennis obeyed. He knew what was coming even before Jones slapped the handcuffs on him.

"Dennis Brown," Jones announced, "you're under arrest for the murder of Ned Dillard."

"You've got nothing against me!" Dennis yelled. We were drawing a crowd at a rapid rate. Even some of the people inside the Blue Flamingo came out to watch.

"You tried to chop down your victim," I stated, remembering the saw. "And when that failed, you decided to burn him up." That bottle of flammable liquid had to service some purpose, after all.

"Bullshit!" screamed Dennis.

"But you couldn't finish. Dave Simmons got in the house and you fled the scene." Honestly, it was amazing how the pieces of the puzzle all came together.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Beads of sweat ran down Dennis's forehead as Jones and I led him towards our cruiser.

"Save it for the judge," Jones growled. After putting Dennis in the backseat, I glanced up. At the very back of the crowd, I spotted none other than Tony Marconi. His arms were folded across his huge chest, and I'll never forget the smile he wore across his face.

When it came time for Dennis to be sentenced, I made sure that I was one of the first people in the courtroom. Jones, of course, sat himself down next to me.

"You did brilliant!" he beamed.

"Thanks," I replied half-heartedly. I was watching the judge take her seat behind the podium. Judge Olivia Hall radiated authority. She was an African-American woman with long hair tied back in a bun. She looked like she'd been born to wear a judge's robes.

Dennis rose to his feet.

"Your Honor, I can explain! I… I'm a victim of circumstance!"

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll shut up," Jones whispered to me. Judge Hall looked at Dennis the way a snake might look at a small mammal.

"Mr. Brown, the evidence collected leaves no place for doubt. The reason why you committed this crime is irrelevant."

"But Your Honor–!"

"Silence!" shouted Judge Hall. "The Court therefore condemns you to life in prison for the premeditated murder of Ned Dillard!" The gavel slammed down with a crash, confirming Dennis's fate. As if on cue, an officer led Dennis away. I wondered if he would ever see the light of day again. When I looked at Judge Hall again, her face had lightened into an expression that was almost pleasant. "Moreover," she continued, "the Court would like to thank the Grimsborough Police Department, and in particular their newest recruit, Marceline Marlow, for their swift investigation. Court is adjourned!"

The gavel came down again, but this time, I barely heard it. It felt like all the eyes in the room were on me, and I loved it. Jones squeezed my hand encouragingly, which startled me out of my reverie.

"We did it!" he chuckled. "That's one freak off our streets!"

"Something's bothering me," I muttered as I stood up.

"What's that?"

"What the hell was his motive for killing Ned?"

"Well…" Jones's smile faded. "I… actually don't know. He never said."

"Crap." I rubbed my temples. "This is going to gnaw at me all night." I somehow knew that the case wasn't finished yet.


End file.
